


So...You Aren't Going to Ravish Me?

by Sacramental_Wine



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Crack, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, I have No Excuse, M/M, Sexual Humor, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacramental_Wine/pseuds/Sacramental_Wine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes your advances!” Pharma accused, poking Tarn in the chest, “You know! Your nefarious plan to catch me off guard and solicit me into the berth, thus making my inevitable desire to break from you and your lackeys that much harder.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	So...You Aren't Going to Ravish Me?

**Author's Note:**

> This all resulted from me wondering why it was always Tarn who seemed to be so eager for Pharma to be in his berth, and then, well, this resulted. I hope you enjoy.

Pharma would like to think he was nothing if not pragmatic. Clearly his interactions with Tarn were leading somewhere far more provocative if the DJD commander’s behavior was anything to go by and Pharma would not be unprepared. No, no, there was no way the Decepticon was going to catch him off guard.

Except for the fact that nothing had actually really happened yet.

Sure he had his quota to meet and the demand of it was stressful, along with the replacement surgeries and some minor repairs to Tarn’s flunkies but other than that the tank never really stuck around. Usually it was a vague threat here, a small demand there and then Bob’s your uncle he was gone leaving tire tracks on the floor and an oddly frustrated Phrama behind to take out his aggression on the miniscule staff of Delphi.

And Pharma couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe this was the tank’s way of keeping him off guard. Well! He’d show him.

Of course, that theory might have gone a little off the rails sometime between finishing Tarn’s T-Cog replacement and hopping into his lap, for once, making the larger mech look distinctly uncomfortable and confused.

“What are you doing, doctor?” Tarn’s normally dangerous voice was pitched mildly as he tried to figure out what Pharma was doing. There wasn’t a scalpel in his servo and the doctor was just sitting there, arms folded across his chest and glaring as though he were keeping something from him and, frankly, Tarn had no clue what.

“I’m preempting your soon to be made advances and taking things into my own servos.” Pharma waved one of his servos and gave one of those lethal smiles, one wing twitching in obvious irritation.

Wait...what?

“Advances?” And now Tarn, Leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, Scourge of Traitors everywhere, was thoroughly confused.

And so was Pharma.

“Yes your advances!” Pharma accused, poking Tarn in the chest, “You know! Your nefarious plan to catch me off guard and solicit me into the berth, thus making my inevitable desire to break from you and your lackeys that much harder.” The medic huffed in indignation, chassis growling with agitated anger and a small, self conscious averting of his optics.

“I...oh,” Tarn hummed, “I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything, I don’t tend to cavort with my business partners.”

“Lead me on?!” Pharma practically screeched, optics narrowing and locking on the larger mech’s, “How dare you! Thinking that I could ever want to go to berth with a brute like you, a Decepticon no less. I have far better taste!”

Thankfully, Pharma at least had the good grace to blush, even when he was doing his best impression of a certain Seeker that Tarn had been happy to leave behind on his eternal quest to serve Lord Megatron and the Cause. So, he felt it better to investigate the problem, rather than let it simmer. After all, he didn’t think he came off as a sexual predator of some kind. Tarn could admit to being many things (a loyal Decepticon, a good leader, and one of the greatest Bass-Baritone singers in the galaxy) but he wasn’t one to try and force someone into an interface. That was unprofessional and, frankly beneath him.

“What ever gave you the impression that I was going to...coerce you into the berth?”

Tarn was unsure whether or not he should be insulted at this point, but the jet had yet to vacate his lap so he might as well settle in for the long haul.

“The invading of my personal space and the demands and all those lingering looks!” Pharma accused quickly, just in time to hear Tarn scoff. “Don’t you laugh at me! You’re just upset I saw right through you!”

“Pharma, you’re being ridiculous,” Tarn knew, instantly, that was the wrong thing to say but pressed onward, “I’d never force anyone into my berth and I believe that even attempting to lure you there would damage our professional relationship.”

“Professional relationship?! Is that what you call this?!”

“Well I am providing protection in exchange for a service. I simply assumed…”

“I have no choice in our arrangement! What makes you think I would enter this willingly.”

“Well you are sort of eager to jump into my berth all of a sudden.”

“Don’t you start!” Pharma growled, leaning closer to the epinonimous mask taunting him with almost jovial red optics. “I want nothing to do with you, given the choice I’d kill you myself and laugh at your corpse after taking pictures with it. But, sadly, as I am lacking that choice I had thought I was backed into a corner, meaning one requiring I eventually fall into the berth with you.”

Tarn, silently, avoided mentioning Pharma’s own paranoia had induced that thought and, thankfully, managed to hold back a yelp as clever medic digits started delving into seams along his chassis.

“What do you think you’re doing, Pharma,” Tarn growled out, fighting down the pleasant feeling of the admittedly attractive flyer poking along his seams. Looking at Pharma’s face, he knew he was more than a little fragged even as the jet shuddered in discomfort from the pull on his spark.

“Just proving my point, you want me and clearly I want to get this stage in our relationship over with since you’re being purposefully obtuse,” the medic said, pressing their helms together, “once and never again, then we can move past it and the suspense is gone.”

Scratch any Starscream comparisons Tarn had been making before, Pharma was clearly in a league of his own and Tarn wondered what he had gotten himself into for a moment before his interfacing systems pinged with a request to cycle on from all that nice rubbing Pharma was doing at his tire treads.

And Tarn really had never balked at sticking his spike in crazy. If Megatron before him could do it and survive, he could do it as well.

So his large servos lifted to those tempting wings, stroking the edges gently and carefully as his engine gave a rev. He didn’t have much experience with the appendages beyond finding them both fascinating and a hinderance, mostly he was surprised that any mech had the ability to deal with them for long periods of time. Pharma, however, seemed to positively love the attention as his wings arched into the touch and he gave a happy little purr, his mouth flying to Tarn’s neck to nibble and suck on the cables, almost going about it too roughly.

And it occurred to Tarn that gentle wasn’t exactly going to get the job done since Pharma was nipping and pawing at him insistently, squeezing his tires and grinding against him like the most wanton piece of shareware in the galaxy. So, servos coming down to encompass the smaller mech’s aft, Tarn stood, walking toward the desk pushed off to the side in the meagre med-bay of the DJD’s ship and placing Pharma there, letting the soft little trill of excitement coming from the smaller mech fuel the small fire of arousal that had already been stoked in his larger frame.

Pharma broke off, sliding back on the desk and spreading his legs wide, interface panel clicking to the side and revealing the slick, heated valve beneath. After all, he did want to get this over with and the anticipation had been killing him, figuratively speaking. It wasn’t like he wanted to have this savage beast of a machine inside his smaller, more delicate frame but he knew it was inevitable that Tarn would want him so it was better to have some control over it.

“I haven’t got all day you know,” he purred, running a blue servo over the Tank’s chest, one leg looping over his waist, “I have other patients to attend and a very busy schedule.”

Tarn made sure to hide the roll of his optics as he dipped a servo between widely spread thighs, one digit sinking into the (extremely in his opinion) wet heat, pressing along the calipers there and making the vain creature on the desk moan loudly in abandon. Was this some kind of kink no one told him about? He’d have to ask Kaon later.

Pharma, for his part, rocked his hips in a thoroughly distracting way, mouth open in a perpetual gasp as Tarn continued to move that digit slowly, feeling along the slick mesh and those fluttering calipers. Well, might as well go for broke.

“I can feel how much you like this, Pharma~” he purred, making sure to lower his helm close to the jet’s audio, feeling him shudder at the feeling, “how much you seem to want this to happen between us. Have you thought about it before? Me coming into your quarters, late at night, taking you so thoroughly you need to repair your hip joints the next morning to walk properly?”

He was getting turned on by his own dirty talk, but even more so by Pharma’s response which was to reach between his legs and add his own digit to the gentle thrusting, grinding his anterior node against his own palm, sending a liquid sort of heat slamming through Tarn’s system, spike unsheathing itself and Pharma’s optics snapped down to look at it, all that passion replaced by hunger.

“S-stop messing around,” he moaned, “get your spike in me, now, Tarn!” He rolled his hips hard, gasping for unneeded air as Tarn slid in a second digit, trying to stretch him further. Pharma would have insisted on pressing ahead if he had the capability of speech, but the pleasure was too great, his long denied interface equipment sparking with life and heat as the brute fingered him open.

Tarn simply didn’t see the logic in actually hurting Pharma like this, since it would make him all but useless for his quota for a few days.

But, soon enough, the jet’s valve was practically sucking on his digits, begging for more and he pulled both of their servos away, taking the smaller wrists in one of his servos and holding them high over Pharma’s helm, holding back his own little moan at the medic’s legs twining around his waist and pulling him closer, blue optics looking up at him in imagined defiance and triumph as though he’d won some great battle.

Tarn made a show of lifting Pharma by his aft again, sinking into the wet, tight heat of his valve and groaning, the sound vibrating through his chassis as his engine revved, Pharma’s own voice a high pitched shriek of desire and abandonment as he clenched his legs tighter, helm tilted back as he accepted the burn of the stretch and the intense, silky pleasure of a spike hitting the top of his valve in one long stroke.

“Oh Tarn~” Pharma practically cooed, “I...mmmmh~ knew you wanted this. W-well? What are you waiting for?”

Tarn was only too glad Pharma hadn’t said something like “ravish me” or something because, as much as he was setting a mood, there was only so much silly smut literature talk he could take.

He lifted Pharma slowly, growling himself as he began to establish a rhythm, rolling his hips into the smaller mech, using nothing but his arms to move Pharma up and down on his spike, the pleasure hissing through his lines as he, finally, got the medic to shut up and just start moaning in wild need and lust, those wings fluttering hard and thighs trembling. Tarn kept his pace slow, however, slow and deep, making sure to hit the top of the smaller mech’s valve, grinding against those sensitive nodes when he got the chance just to hear Pharma moan and squeal and gasp, blue arcs of electricity sparking from his shaking frame.

Either it had been a while for Pharma or he’d really been fantasizing about this.

So Tarn picked up the pace, practically growling as he worked up the monumental effort to speak again. “Is this how you pictured it, Pharma? Being impaled on my spike in the air, forced to just take it while I move you as slowly or as quickly as I desire? You feel so good wrapped around my spike like this, perhaps I should keep you that way.”

Admittedly, what happened next shouldn’t have surprised Tarn as much as it did.

Pharma’s optics whited out and he let out a wail as he overloaded, valve clenching tight as he writhed for more friction, begging Tarn to keep moving, go faster you brute, more, more, more.

And Tarn obliged, leaning them over the desk as he veritably started pounding away, his own moans joining Pharma’s as the pleasure of that almost too tight valve raced up his spinal struts. Lubricant stained his thighs as Pharma tossed his helm back and forth, mouthing at Tarn’s mask, servos scraping long divots into the thick plating of Tarn’s back as he practically screamed his name in the throes of a second overload, pulling Tarn along with him into the electric bliss of it all.

Then suddenly it was all over, their cooling fans whining on high as they panted, frames heaving with exertion and Tarn pulled out with a soft, wet noise as lubricant and transfluid splattered to the floor and he moved to sit on the desk beside Pharma who looked completely happy to just lie there and groan in the afterglow of it all.

Of course, the modicum of peace that had forged itself was quickly dashed when Pharma slid to the floor and between Tarn’s legs.

“Pharma what are you…”

“Shhh,” the medic smiled, glossa sliding up the side of his slowly depressurizing spike, “this is the part where you’re supposed to make me clean my fluids off of you.”

Well, Tarn wasn’t going to argue with Pharma’s clear plan for how this encounter was supposed to go. Maybe after they could take a shower and perhaps talk over what happened but right now...well…

Pharma had a pretty good mouth. Even if he was a little crazy.

Must be a flier thing.

 

 


End file.
